Labyrinthine Adoration
by Marengo227
Summary: Lissa was gone. Captured by Plegia at the beginning of the war, snatched away from Maribelle in what seemed like an instant. In her regret and sorrow, Maribelle realized that Lissa was more than a friend for her. She loved her. That realization drove her to vow to herself that she was going to find Lissa and keep her safe. No matter what.
1. Chapter 1

When Maribelle had been rescued back at the border, pure relief filled her soul, the hope of living a long, healthy life returning to her. After all, she was just about to be cut down by Plegians, and for what? To make everyone else suffer her loss. She wasn't going to permit that, and so when Ricken came to her rescue, she hurried off with him without waiting even a single moment. When a Plegian soldier cornered the two of them, she found herself risking Ricken to save her own hide, as shameful as that was. She didn't want to die, she didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't want to hurt Lissa.

Oh, Lissa. The two of them had met when they were small children, and despite Lissa's unending exuberance clashing with Maribelle's calm and refined demeanor, the two of them became friends almost instantly. Over the years, their bond had only brought them closer together. Of course, Maribelle had no way to get inside of Lissa's head, but she liked to think that her dearest companion missed her greatly whenever they were apart. Maribelle knew she did.

Maribelle's sense of self-preservation continued to dominate her instincts, keeping her from getting beheaded more than once. It was if the blood in her veins had been replaced with pure, unfiltered adrenaline, removing any exhaustion, any pain, any fear. She was going to live, and she was going to see everyone again. She was going to fight another day, no matter who got in her way.

Then, she saw it; a path that winded like a serpent up to a cliff face that seemed to encircle the entire mountain. On that cliff face was that horrid woman, Aversa, who had almost killed her when the battle had first begun. And in her grip, screaming and kicking and squirming, was Lissa. Whatever self-preservation instincts that were driving Maribelle vanished instantly, replaced with the need to save her friend. Rocks tore up her boots, slashing against her feet, but she kept running, trying to get to them.

A blast of magic hit Maribelle square in the shoulder before she could get far. It sent her flying, hitting the dirt jaw-first, making her bite her tongue hard enough for her to immediately taste blood. Despite the intense pain she was feeling, she struggled to her feet, watching Aversa leisurely stroll away with Lissa, the princess still screaming at the top of her lungs. Maribelle staggered after them, even as their forms, already small, grew fainter and fainter, disappearing into the dust clouding the air. Even once they were out of sight, she kept going, trying to ignore how her shoulder was further back than it was supposed to be, or how her tongue kept bleeding, forcing her to occasionally spit out a mouthful of blood.

Eventually, Maribelle's torn-up feet refused to listen to her anymore, and she found herself collapsing to the dirt. The rest of her body, and eventually her mind, came to an agreement with the same thought her feet had. Lissa was gone. Maribelle could never catch up. She had failed to save her. A raw, uninhibited scream was all she could muster, hearing it echo through the various mountains and rock faces. Maybe it even made its way to Lissa.

Once Maribelle was found by the others and given probably more Vulneraries in a short period of time than was safe, she had to be the one to tell Chrom. Nobody else had seen it happen. "Milord, I bear…I bear grave news." The pain from her injuries could still be felt, and the number of Vulneraries she had drank made her want to wretch. "Your sister, she…she was taken. I watched it happen, I tried to stop them, but I…I wasn't strong enough."

She was already crying. Damnit, she needed to get ahold of herself! She was a noblewoman, an inheritor of her father's Dukedom, yet here she was, sobbing like an infant! Not only that, but she was stealing the chance to grieve from Chrom. She knew that, she knew that her crying made him have to be the strong one, to hold her and tell her everything was going to be perfectly alright, but she needed to cry. She hated crying, but it was the only thing she could do.

They had been looking at her. Everyone was denying it, but Maribelle knew they had been looking at her. She was the one who let the enemy capture Princess Lissa. She was the one who in all likelihood had gotten her killed. If not that, then who knew what kind of tortures Lissa was enduring at that very moment? The thought of it spread through her active imagination, painting pictures visceral enough to make her have to rush into the woods before vomiting her lunch all over the ground.

One night, Lissa came to her in her dreams. She seemed to have some sort of aura around her, a presence that made Maribelle feel things she had never felt before, a pining, a longing, a desperate desire to fall into her arms. They stepped closer to eachother, each footfall sending waves of anticipation through the air. They were close enough for Maribelle to feel her breath hit her face, and then Lissa leaned forward, her eyes closing, her—

Maribelle woke up. In a matter of seconds, she had thrown up in the bucket she now kept in her tent at all times. Right after that, she threw up again. After that, Maribelle ate far less. Less to vomit up meant a less miserable experience when she was vomiting. Sure, she got thinner, sure, her skin became paler and her energy became lower, but it was better than the alternative. Robin entered her tent once, sitting down and having a long talk about Maribelle's mental state.

"Maribelle, I'm going to be blunt about this. I believe that Lissa's capture has dealt a massive blow to your psyche. I've no doubt you're already suffering depression, considering how rarely you seem to want to anything anymore. Guilt, self-loathing, perhaps even anxiety. These kinds of conditions can ruin a person, Maribelle. You're sharp as a knife, you have to understand the consequences of this."

"…What do you expect me to do?" Maribelle could barely even muster a whisper. "Do you expect me to simply wake up tomorrow with a smile on my face, 'pep in my step', as Stahl would say, and perform all of my tasks with exuberance? Do you expect me to see the world as daisies and sunshine when we're fighting a war?"

"That's not what I expect. I don't expect anything from you, because you owe me nothing that would let me expect that. What I'm telling you is that you're teetering on an edge. If you tip over that edge, I doubt you'll be able to come back. So please, try and save yourself. What happened to Lissa was not your fault."

Hearing that gave Maribelle the strength to raise her voice. "It's ENTIRELY my fault! I saw her there, _me_. I was the only one who could help her, but I couldn't. I had never learned any offensive magic, I wasn't as fast or as strong as anyone else in the Shepherds, and those things were _my_ fault! It's because of me that Lissa is likely either dead or wishing she was! Do you even know, Robin, what it's like to see her being dragged away while you lie helpless on the ground? Do you know what it's like to spend day after day knowing that what happened was because of you?"

Robin stopped talking for a while, looking down at her lap. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "You're right, Maribelle. I don't know what any of that is like. But I know what it's like to love someone. I know what it's like to see that person put in danger, to want with every fiber of your being to save them. I know what it's like to love a person so much that you feel you have to stake your whole existence, your whole reason for fighting, on them."

There had been rumors that Robin and Chrom were in some sort of relationship. A few whispers of them sneaking to the forest when they believed no one was watching, some mutterings of them instinctually holding hands before realizing they were not in the right place, hastily trying to look as indifferent to eachother as possible. But that was all they were; rumors. What Robin said, however, told Maribelle that the rumors were true. Robin wasn't daft, she knew what she said would allow Maribelle to learn the truth. So why did she tell her? "You love her," Robin said with a soft smile. "Don't you?"

"I…" With her own psyche unable to lie to her anymore, to insist it was just a friendship, Maribelle had no way of keeping herself from her own feelings anymore. She loved Lissa more than anything in the world. She'd trade it all; her inheritance, her place in the Shepherds, her money, her status, even her own life, just to see Lissa safe. Every time Lissa stepped into view, Maribelle's mood brightened. Every giggle following a successful prank made Maribelle experience that happiness tenfold. Her soft, delicate features, the way she tried to deny them, getting that embarrassed flush of red on her cheeks that she always did, frowning and pouting, made Maribelle's heart melt.

Before Maribelle even knew what she was doing, she was embracing Robin as tightly as she could, sobbing and weeping and hiccupping from the sheer sorrow she was letting out. Her cries weren't delicate, they weren't soft, they were ugly and disgusting and loud and unending. Just the mere thought of Lissa hurting was making Maribelle feel as if her entire world had been stolen from her and razed to the ground right in front of her eyes.

Robin and Maribelle kept eachothers' secrets. In truth, Maribelle felt as if she had gained some sort of sisterhood with the tactician. And so, for Robin's sake, she carried on. She ate her meals, she did her chores with more energy, she fought with everything she had. The Ylissean army advanced into Plegia, hoping to rescue Emmeryn before it was too late. Maribelle felt numb to the entire cause of striking down Gangrel and ending the war. She only cared about the royal palace, the place where Lissa, if she was still alive, was undoubtedly being held. After Emmeryn fell, Chrom entered a sort of battle-hungry trance that Maribelle never thought the man could fall into. Robin expressed secretly how scared she was, not only of what kind of dangers Chrom was putting himself into but of the dangers he posed to others. He would lose his temper at the smallest annoyance, he would strike a training dummy until it was nothing but smashed up junk.

While Maribelle had reacted to loss by giving up, Chrom's loss was what drove him to fight Gangrel in the midst of the final battle. Maribelle wasn't there to see it, but she was told that their confrontation was one for the history books. He and Robin fought the Mad King, trading blows, parrying and dodging and grazing eachother until they had become exhausted from the fight. Gangrel took advantage of this, striking Robin in the chest, his sword embedding itself, as a cleric would later reveal, less than an inch from her heart. Chrom, believing her to be dead, summoned the ferocity to strike down Gangrel with one fell swoop.

In the medical tent, being tended to by three different clerics at once, Robin held Chrom's hand, her face pale and her grip nearly nonexistent. Nobody was sure if she was going to make it. Even so, even with her own mortality staring her in the eyes, she still asked Chrom right then and there if he would marry her. No ring, no special occasion, no surprise or romantic atmosphere, just a dingy medical tent with dried blood caking the bedsheets and clerics that were barely stopping themselves from passing out from overworking. Chrom said yes, and that was that.

The future queen of Ylisse survived her wound, with her souvenirs being a large scar on her chest and a lingering sensation of burning that would occasionally reemerge, forcing her to keep a Vulnerary on hand at all times to dull the pain. Funnily enough, she kept the Levin Sword that Gangrel had used to deal the near-fatal blow. When Maribelle asked why, Robin told her that the injury made her feel as if she and the blade shared some sort of unspoken connection. After all, the only other thing that had gotten closer to her heart was Chrom. She joked that if he had said no, she would've married the sword instead.

Resistance from Plegia's army after Gangrel's death was virtually nonexistent. A large portion of it had already ceased their fighting due to Emmeryn's sacrifice, so his death served more as a final nail in the coffin for their morale. Of course, Maribelle couldn't have cared less about the wide-reaching effects of the war. All she cared about was getting into that palace. The Ylissean army had already begun to establish themselves within, but due to the time it took to do so, they hadn't yet properly secured the entire area. She didn't bother listening to their requests to take an escort, knowing that it'd just slow her down.

The sound of Maribelle's heart thumping seemed to her louder than her feet clacking against the dark marble floors. There were still plenty of Plegian nobles, soldiers, and servants, but any who tried to stop her were met with the Ylissean Royal Seal she carried with her at all times, signifying her as someone who reported directly to the royal family. That stopped anybody right in their tracks and saved her from having to resort to violence. The idea of her getting in a fight with one of these people would have seemed foreign to her months ago, before Lissa was first taken. But now, she wasn't just ready; she was looking forward to having the excuse. If someone got too physical, she'd be well within her rights to beat them senseless, and the idea of that was a rather pleasant one. It would be as if she was taking revenge for whatever had happened to Lissa.

What _had_ happened to Lissa? Maribelle's fears were dissuaded upon one day coming to the conclusion that if Lissa had been executed, Gangrel would have certainly sent ample proof in order to goad Chrom further. So she was alive, but that by no means meant that she was safe in any capacity. Even setting aside conventional torture methods, it was no secret that a sizeable portion of Plegia's nobility was Grimleal. The methods that worshippers of the Fell Dragon could employ were the ones that kept Maribelle up at night whenever she wondered about Lissa.

Down into the dungeons she went, carrying a torch that only illuminated a few feet ahead of her. The marble floors were replaced with rough, cracked stone, unable to hide its age. This place was so dead, so barren, that not even mildew could thrive in its environment. The air itself seemed long-dead, rough and coarse without the sting that the sandy wastes above carried. As she descended deeper and deeper into its depths, she felt like the walls were closing her, unsure if they actually were or if it was simply her anxieties getting the better of her.

Each cell contained a prisoner, but few were even in a state where Maribelle could feel pity for them. Some were rambling and screaming about the heinous things they had done, or perhaps they were the heinous things that had been done to them. Their sanity had slipped away long ago, replaced by babbling akin to that of a child's accompanied by sunken eyes, cracked fingernails, and skin that was so filthy and dry that Maribelle could have sworn that some of it was rotting.

The ones that Maribelle did feel sorry for were the ones who had already passed. Some corpses were ancient, nothing but bones with scraps of decomposing flesh still clinging onto them. Others were still new, likely having starved due to the palace's attention being focused solely on the invading army. Not everybody was on one side of those extremes. Some were still in the process of being slowly torn to shreds by maggots, the stench reminding her of the smell of the aftermath of their rain-soaked battle against Plegian forces within the massive bones of what was assumed to be the Fell Dragon. Except that smell was at least somewhat softened by the scent of fresh rainfall being consumed by the hungry earth. This was raw, fresh, undeterred and free to drift across every inch of space that it could. Maribelle hurried away before she could wretch. She'd had enough of that for one war.

The important prisoners were held deeper within behind solid doors rather than simple steel bars. Some of these cells were clearly inhabited, judging by the constant banging on the doors, but peeking through the small windows that granted her a glimpse of the rooms yielded nothing but more deranged or dead prisoners. It surprised her that she was so calm by this point. If all of these people were in such a state, then Lissa's fate was almost certainly just as cruel, yet Maribelle didn't allow that thought to control her. A composed, calm mind would be what would get her through this.

The hallway stretched on for so long that every pair of cell doors, one on either side, began to blend together in a hazy blur of the same sight repeated over and over and over again. Was Maribelle even making any progress? Would she ever reach the end of this corridor? Despite the death surrounding her, she didn't believe that any specters were stalking these halls. Rather, the halls _were_ the specters, entrapping her in an endless maze that only went one direction, slowly engulfing her with the stench of stale air punctuated by rotting flesh, the sound of maggots squirming over muscles and tissue and gods, could she actually hear the maggots? She could hear the maggots, but she couldn't hear the flies. Why couldn't she hear the flies?

The end of the hall was in front of her. How long had she been looking at it without realizing it was there? Was this even the end, or would it simply reveal another stretch of cells behind it, like some sadistic joke preying on her unraveling mind, threatening to pull out the one string that was still keeping together? Threatening to keep Lissa from her. She didn't even care if Lissa was alive or not. Even if she was nothing but a lifeless sack of meat and bones and skin and ligaments and eyes, empty eyes, eyes that were trying to find a savior, someone to save her, someone who would never arrive and end up leaving her to die cold and alone, wondering if anyone truly loved her enough to save her in the first place, even then, Maribelle would still cradle her, hold her tight as if the rest of the world didn't matter anymore, sit with her until she too began to starve to death, just whispering in Lissa's ear whatever she could think of, whatever she wanted to say but never could and now could only utter to ears that couldn't hear, a mind that couldn't process those words, a beautiful, enrapturing maiden that would still shine with that aura that followed her wherever she went, snuffing out the darkness threatening to consume her, only she couldn't consume it this time, it consumed her, it ate her and spat her back out to mock Maribelle.

She opened the door. It was easier than expected, really. No doubt nobody thought someone would make it this far, and even if they did, they would never make it back. The cell was spacious yet cramped, its walls side but its ceiling so low that even Maribelle, not exactly the tallest person out there, almost had to stoop her head low in order to not hit it. Where was Lissa? Maribelle waved her torch around, silently begging its light to show her the way, to show her the woman she needed to see again, to touch again.

In the corner, almost invisible, was a girl with long, blonde hair that stretched down to her waist, wearing nothing whatsoever, completely still, her skin pale enough to pass her off as a corpse if she sat still enough. Only, she wasn't sitting still. She was trembling just visibly enough for Maribelle to see. Without a word, the noblewoman approached, kneeling down and placing a gentle hand on the girl's back.

Lissa screamed, lunging out at Maribelle and knocking the torch from her hands, sending it skidding across the ground and hitting the wall. Sharp fingernails clawed at wherever they could, cutting Maribelle's cheek, her arm, yanking on her hair. "LISSA! LISSA, STOP!" She screamed, but the girl kept attacking. Her face was obscured completely by the darkness. Maribelle needed to see it. She needed to see Lissa.

Maribelle shoved Lissa off of her, getting on top and pinning her to the ground, reaching for the torch while Lissa screamed and struggled. Once she had a firm hold on the torch, she held it next to her own face, illuminating the both of them. Lissa stopped, her eyes staring into Maribelle's, reading every little movement, every twitch, every dilation of the pupil. Maribelle stared back, noting the primal fear, the trembling of her lip, the hope that she once carried in spades seemingly snuffed out.

Lissa cried. She cried in what could be interpreted as either utter hopelessness or terrified ecstasy, fearful that Maribelle would be snatched away back into the dark, leaving her all alone yet again. Maribelle started to whisper whatever soothing words could come into her mind, not even paying attention to what she was saying. Instead, her eyes scanned the rest of Lissa's form, noting how thin she had become, how even when laying flat on the floor she was hunched, as if curling into a ball was just how she lived. Then, she focused on Lissa's right hand, and the symbol engraved on it, pulsating with a gentle, soft purple light, almost giving it a calming appearance. The mark of Grima. The same mark Robin bore on her right hand, in the same place.

It was then that Maribelle realized what she had been whispering the whole time. The same words over and over, as if she needed to convince herself more than Lissa. "It's alright now. You're safe. It's alright now. I'm here. It's alright now."


	2. Chapter 2

When Lissa knew she was being dragged away to a prison cell, she'd imagined something cold. Something that would chill her to the bone, leaving her shivering with pins and needles stabbing her sleeping limbs. Instead, what she found was that it was unbearably stuffy, heat closing in on her as if the walls were shifting, instilling a deep sense of claustrophobia that the low ceiling certainly didn't help. How long had she even been inside? No windows, no light save for the flickering torchlight that accompanied a guard bringing her a meal. At first, she tried to use that as a measure of time, trying to figure out what was breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but she quickly realized that there was no pattern to these meals. Or maybe there was, and she had simply lost a solid enough grasp of time to see it. Either way, it was a fruitless effort.

No chains held her down, which initially encouraged her to fight, to try and break out and run away. When she first tried that, the guard in front of her delivered a sucker punch straight to her throat. She writhed on the ground, gasping and choking, trying to recover some sense of air while the guard gave her a few kicks for good measure. She had stopped trying after that. The fact of the matter was that she simply didn't have the physical strength to escape.

One day, that woman entered. Aversa. Lissa had stood up, backing up until she hit the wall. Aversa had only grinned. "My, my, you look positively dreadful. I assume your bruises from your encounter with that guard still remain?" Lissa didn't answer, just staring at the woman. "Come now, speak to me. I've only come here with your best interests in mind. I could even heal those wounds if you'd like."

"You're lying. I don't believe a word you say." Lissa was surprised by just how frail her voice had become. She hadn't said anything since she arrived, but she never realized just how much she had deteriorated already. Aversa walked over to her, and as Lissa tried to move away, the woman roughly grabbed her arm, holding it tight enough to make Lissa gasp from the pain. Aversa moved a hand to her neck, gently rubbing her fingers over the purple and green bruise.

"How awful. A beautiful young woman like you shouldn't have to bear these kinds of injuries. It would be like a crack in a porcelain dish." Aversa set her lantern down to the side and grabbed a stave, holding it to Lissa's neck. A faint light shone, and the colors slowly faded away. "Now, were you hurt anywhere else?"

What was Aversa trying to do here? Gain Lissa's trust? Get her to let her guard down before doing something terrible to her? Despite her worries, Lissa looked down to her legs, where bruises from being kicked dotted her skin. Aversa got down on her knees, applying the stave to wherever it needed to be. Lissa felt painfully exposed, seeing as all she was wearing was simple prisoner rags, but Aversa didn't seem to take note of that. Once done, the woman stood back up. "Better?"

Lissa nodded. "Thank you—" Before she could finish speaking, her head felt as if it had been pierced by a blade, making her scream and fall to the floor, clutching her head in her hands. "What's—GAHH!" Pain spiked through her again making her almost slam her skull against the ground in a desperate attempt to make it stop.

"Ah, that's just a little curse I placed on you while healing you. It's nothing complex, really; if you talk without my permission, your mind will flare up with pain. Nothing more, nothing less. Easy to avoid, yes?" Aversa squatted in front of Lissa, pinching her cheek. "You're so cute when you have that expression." Lissa said nothing, focusing on trying not to black out, taking deep, heavy breaths. "Oh, right. You can talk now."

"What…what do you want from me…"

"What do I want? Oh, that should be obvious, shouldn't it? You're the princess of the country we're currently at war with. As much as that imbecile Gangrel wants to flay you and hang your corpse over the palace gates, I've made sure that you're under my jurisdiction. And I know that there are more profitable ventures than simply murdering you."

"Do you want information? To use me as a bargaining chip?"

"Neither, actually. I simply want to come and visit now and then, to see how you're doing. After all, how could I resist?" The fingers that pinched Lissa's cheek relented, sliding to her hair and gently ruffling it. "Oh, we're going to get along just fine. I can already tell. Now, you no longer have my permission to speak." She stood up and headed for her door, picking up her lantern on the way. "By the way, you won't be getting your meals with no effort on your part. Don't worry though, it's nothing too taxing. All you have to do is ask."

Lissa could feel her stomach growl just at the mention of food, but Aversa's game didn't go over her head. This was a torture tactic. Either ask for food and receive agonizing pain or slowly starve to save herself from the misery. She didn't say anything, deciding that she could last a while longer without a meal. Meanwhile, she wasn't sure she could take another one of those headaches in such a short period of time.

After Aversa was gone, Lissa was left to lay on the ground, still feeling lingering remnants of pain threatening to crash through her skull and out of her head. Why weren't they asking for information? What was their goal? No, what was _Aversa's_ goal? She was clearly the one in charge of all of this. She said she wanted to just come and visit, but it was obvious that there was more to it than just that.

A while later, long enough for the aching in Lissa's stomach to get much worse, Aversa came back in, still wearing that sinister, almost seductive smile. "Hello again. Are you doing well?" Lissa almost said something, but stopped herself, remembering what would happen to her if she spoke. "My, didn't your parents teach you manners? It's polite to respond to a question about your well-being." Aversa stopped, putting a finger to her chin. "Ah, right, I forgot. You never did get to know your parents, did you? Don't worry, I'm sure you didn't miss much considering the kind of man your father was."

Lissa had to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying anything. She knew that Aversa was trying to goad her, trying to get her to slip up and say something so the curse would make her writhe in agony once again. After seeing that her tactics weren't working, Aversa pursed her lips. "Well then, you seem to have adapted to my curse quite nicely. I guess I'll be on my way. Unless, of course, you'd like me to request a meal for you?" Lissa nodded, but Aversa shook her head. "I need you to ask, sweetie. Just ask."

There was an expression Robin used for a situation like this. Stuck between a rock and a…something. Whatever it was, it fit this perfectly. Still, Lissa knew she needed food. She needed water. So she opened her mouth, tensed up, and spoke. "F-Food—" Almost as soon as the word came out of her mouth, she was on the ground, her body almost convulsing as pain shot through her, zigzagging across her skull.

"Food? Of course. I'll make sure you get some." And with that, Aversa was gone, having made her point. She was going to get whatever she wanted, even if that was the pleasure of watching Lissa suffer. This was just the beginning. What was she going to come up with next? Did Lissa even want to imagine it? As the pain began to subside, Lissa realized she had been crying, her face now soaked with tears.

Where was Chrom? He would never leave her alone like this. He'd send everything he had to get her back. So why hadn't he? Was he unable to due to the war, or perhaps something else? Did something happen to Emm? Was that why nobody had come for her, because they had to prioritize her sister?

And where was Maribelle? She was the last friendly face Lissa had seen, desperately chasing after her to no avail. The look of sheer desperation in her eyes was something Lissa couldn't get out of her mind, no matter how hard she tried. It was beyond just the fear of losing a best friend. Maribelle looked as if her entire world was about to be stolen from her.

A memory dragged itself into Lissa's head as if to answer that question. It was around a year ago, before the Risen, before the war, before even the bandit attacks had started to spike. It was peaceful. The peace was by no means a stable one, but it was peace nonetheless. Maribelle was visiting Ylisstol, and that meant that she and Lissa were practically obligated to have some tea together.

Maribelle had always been an aficionado of the stuff, knowing each and every single type of tea leaf, what blends were best for what situations, and just about everything one could ever know about tea. The tea she had served that day tasted different from anything Lissa had ever tasted before. It was much sweeter, but still seemed rich. When she inquired about the taste, Maribelle began to blush, oddly enough.

"Ah, well, that's quite the funny story, actually. It's a rare tea leaf found in Ferox, but only in the few days between autumn and winter. It's said that if you use the leaf to create tea for two people, then they'll be destined to stay with eachother forever." The subtext of that had flown right over Lissa's head, of course.

"Wow! That means we get to be friends forever!" Lissa was so happy when she said it that she entirely missed Maribelle's downtrodden expression. Only when looking back at it with the gift of hindsight did she recognize what that truly meant. But no, it couldn't be that. Maribelle wasn't one to hold her tongue; she was the kind of woman who said whatever she wanted, even if it was always tinged with a refined air. Though she knew that being a noblewoman meant talking in a more polite manner, that never prevented her from being rather nasty towards people she held with disdain.

Lissa was just reading too much into it, that's all. She was desperate to find some sort of way to connect with the people she was now so isolated from, and that had led to her imagining feelings for her that didn't exist. Of course, it wasn't a totally selfish thought. Maribelle was certainly beautiful, something which Lissa always recognized. Not just in the way she looked, either; she simply had a presence that kept Lissa drawn towards her. Powerful, yet vulnerable. Refined, yet brash. Incredibly knowledgeable in etiquette and tea, yet hopeless when it came to household chores or interacting with people like Donnell, only ending up making a fool of herself. It was all just so adorable. Not adorable in the sense that it was admirable, but adorable in the sense that it just made Lissa enjoy her company that much more. That was why she was always such good friends with her, after all; she simply loved being with her. But that didn't mean she loved her. Did she love her? Did she have feelings for her that she had simply never truly taken note of until now? Was she still just trying to find a way to connect with the people she was separated from? Was the fantasy of being held in her arms, being caressed, feeling her warm touch and soft skin simply born out of desperation to feel some sort of companionship? But that fantasy was still real nonetheless, and it was one that she wanted to live in. Maybe it would be gone by tomorrow, or maybe it would persist, lingering in her thoughts, poisoning her memories of Maribelle, or perhaps it wasn't poison at all, but a way to reinterpret every time their hands brushed together, every smile, every friendly gesture, all combining to create a longing for more of it, for more of her friend, but she wasn't truly her friend anymore, was she? No, she was something different now, and that wasn't going to change in the matter of a day. Was this what isolation had already done to her?

Lissa was panicking. Her breathing was rapid and unsteady. And so she stopped, clearing her mind and taking slow, deep breaths. Each one seemed to do almost nothing for her, but they still had somewhat of an impact. Eventually, she curled up in a corner, trying to get comfortable before falling asleep. When she woke up, she saw a tray of food sitting in front of her cell door.

* * *

Maribelle, Chrom, and Robin had gathered together to receive the official report from the clerics in charge of examining Lissa. Chrom had tried to dissuade Maribelle from joining them, but she insisted that she didn't give a damn what anyone wanted her to do, not even the prince. Robin, more sympathetic, reasoned with her fiancé, and eventually got him to relent. Maribelle thought this would help her feel more at ease, but all she did was grow more worried.

A cleric stepped in, bowing in front of them. "Milord. Miladies. I am here to deliver the report on Princess Lissa's current health."

Maribelle wasn't in the mood to waste time. "Yes, we guessed that," she snapped. "now give us the damned report."

The cleric was somewhat startled by the anger, but regained composure, clearing her throat. "Ah, yes. Well, her physical state is somewhat better than we had expected. She's lost significant weight, suffered an immense lack of sunlight or proper nutrients, and her lack of exposure to any substantial amount of light has left her eyes struggling to adapt to being back above ground."

Chrom raised an eyebrow. "And this is better than you expected?"

"Yes. Remarkably, there's not a single scar on her. It seems that she was never harmed, at least physically. It is rather odd, however, since it leaves a lack of an explanation for her voice. Or, perhaps I should say, lack of one." The bewildered expressions from the three of them confused the cleric in turn. "I-I thought you knew. Princess Lissa hasn't spoken a single word. We've tried to get her to respond, but all she's mustered are nods, shakes of her head, and small noises. We once gave her a pen and some paper, but she rejected it. It seems that she refuses to communicate through speech or writing. As I said, there's been no significant damage, and that includes her lungs and vocal cords."

Robin narrowed her eyebrows. "Curses, then. That must be it." The cleric shook her head once again.

"We've already checked for that, and she has no curses on her whatsoever. The only probable cause we've come up with is mental trauma, but that's not something that can be treated as easily. The human mind is too complex to heal with a Vulnerary or stave. I'm afraid that she may never speak again, depending on the severity of her emotional trauma. However, therapy, especially with those close to her, is the most likely way to improve her condition."

Chrom crossed his arms, breathing out a heavy sigh. "Maribelle's her best friend, and she tried to claw her eyes out."

Maribelle's eyes darted over to him. "But she didn't."

Before conflict could erupt once again between the two of them, the cleric stepped back into the conversation. "This is just my recommendation. You're free to do as you wish when it comes to handling her emotional state. As for physical health, I recommend plenty of greens and a good helping of fiber. No wines, and try to keep her meats at medium well, at least. Her immune system is in a bit of a precarious situation, which leaves her more vulnerable to contracting diseases from meat that has not been cooked properly. Make sure she stays somewhere clean, in order to avoid contracting a possible sickness. These rules should become less necessary as time goes on, assuming her condition improves."

Chrom still didn't look too pleased. "And her hand? The mark on it?" Robin almost immediately started rubbing her own marked hand, now painfully aware of the doubt and suspicion this cast on her.

"No magical energy has been detected on it whatsoever. It's a mere tattoo, nothing more, nothing less. Unfortunately, it's quite permanent. I understand the implications of its presence on Princess Lissa, so I'd recommend keeping it hidden if she goes out in public."

Robin gave the cleric a smile. "We'll keep your advice in mind. Thank you very much." The cleric, taking that as her cue to leave, bowed once more before hurrying out of the room. Almost immediately, Robin's smile faded. "Poor Lissa…what did they do to her? Who would even do something that awful to her?"

Maribelle felt rage begin to boil up in her once more at the thought of Lissa being harmed in such a horrible manner, and quickly excused herself from the room before she could risk taking it out on either of them. Her destination was clear to her, and in no time at all she was standing in front of the door to Lissa's room. She reminded the guards outside the door as to who she was, which made them let her in much faster than before.

As soon as the doors opened, Lissa was staring at Maribelle, fear immediately present in her eyes. It wasn't a fear of Maribelle herself; rather, it was a fear of another human being, another person who could potentially hurt her. Even Chrom had not been spared from receiving this look. It was as if Lissa considered everyone equally as likely to try and hurt her. "Lissa darling, you look like a deer in torchlight." Maribelle stepped in and closed the door, trying not to show just how much this devastated her.

Lissa relaxed a bit upon recognizing Maribelle, but she was still tense, curled up on her large bed with her hands held together over her legs. A hand mirror laid on her nightstand, cracked into numerous pieces. One of them was missing from the frame. Maribelle, keenly aware of this information, quickly spotted a hint of glass poking out from under her. "Lissa! Are you mad!?" She approached and grabbed the glass from under her, sparking a terrified whimper as Lissa backed away. Inspecting the glass shard, Maribelle noticed that there was blood dripping down one of the edges. Had she been holding it wrong, keeping it in case she needed to defend herself? Or was she…no. No, of course she wasn't.

"There's no need for such barbaric acts of desperation, Lissa. You're safe now. Nothing will be able to hurt you here." Maribelle's soothing words did nothing to calm Lissa down. Instead, the princess clutched her hands together again, nails digging into her skin. Maribelle almost reprimanded her on this but decided against it. This was not the time for pointing out flaws in etiquette. "Lissa, the clerics told me you refuse to speak. Is this true?" Lissa nodded. "Why is that?" All Maribelle got as an answer was Lissa's eyes looking to the floor, guilty and solemn.

"Nobody will harm you if you speak, Lissa. I don't know if that's what happened to you there, but it won't happen here." Hesitantly, Maribelle held out a hand to Lissa, who stared at it defensively. "Go on, take my hand." Slowly, almost as if her sense of time had slowed, Lissa unhooked her fingers from eachother and took Maribelle's hand. It was heartbreaking to feel just how limp Lissa's grip had become. Maribelle took the liberty of helping Lissa's fingers wrap around her hand, and did the same with hers. "There. You see? I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you, Lissa. Not in a million years. You believe me, don't you?"

After a long period of silence, Lissa nodded, still refusing to resume eye contact. She just held her hand like that for a while, the two of them enjoying the touch of the other's hand. Even in this broken state, Lissa was still stunning. She was like a hummingbird too tired to fly; still and steady for now, but undoubtedly already starting to feel its boundless energy returning. The question was when that would be. When would Lissa become her old self again? Would she even become like her old self, or would she be a different person forever? Asking these questions hurt Maribelle in ways she couldn't describe. Thinking about the woman she loved like this only made her feel more like she was responsible for what had happened. And if she was responsible for what happened to her, then she was absolutely going to be responsible for helping her get better. Even if Chrom himself tried to prohibit her from visiting Lissa, she wouldn't be deterred. She would save this woman, the love of her life. She'd fix this. No matter what.


End file.
